


Another Synth

by foreignobjecticus



Series: Safety in Numbers [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25990948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foreignobjecticus/pseuds/foreignobjecticus
Summary: Nick sees something in Nahant that chills him right to his metal bones.
Series: Safety in Numbers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1886422
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	Another Synth

Glass crunched distressingly under Nick Valentine's foot and he stopped still, ears on high alert for any sign that he'd been heard. All the ghouls were dead now, he was _almost_ sure, but he was better playing it safe than sorry. Croup Manor had been swarming with ghouls as long as he could remember, and sure, there was _definitely_ still something lurking in the basement, but despite the last thirty minutes of gunfire, it hadn't come out; Nick wasn't worried about that, at least. No, what he was worried about didn't come from within the house now - it was outside. Nick straightened his back ever so slowly, inching up with a precision only something mechanical could achieve, until he could just see over the edge of the blown out window. 

There was something outside. 

It didn't sound like it was big, and Nick was willing to bet – hoping, more than anything – that it was just another ghoul and not something tougher. Nahant had its fair share of mirelurks, and where there were 'lurks, a queen wasn't far away… But no, as the synth edged closer and closer to the wall he realised his fears were unfounded. 

Down below in the courtyard of the manor, an old-looking woman with an obvious wig was picking her way through the remains of a ghoul's pockets. Her body was hunched over the corpse, leaving her face invisible to Nick from where he was looking up above, but the thin arms in a dirty white shirt and the stiff movements gave away the person, even if he couldn’t see their face. The woman rifled through the tattered clothes of the ghouls Nick had disposed of earlier, pocketing caps and other valuables with deft hands before moving on to the next body in a methodical pattern across the lawn of the manor. Nick watched, his fans running low and quiet as he kept one ear out for movement in the house and one eye on the woman below lest she come into the manor. If she came inside, he’d have to work out if she was a threat or not… and the noise of gunfire – hell, even talking – might be loud enough to wake up anything he’d not disturbed in his first combover. Thankfully, the woman seemed uninterested in the manor, instead she adjusted her oversized trousers, tugging against the now substantial weight of trinkets in the pockets, and readjusted the cord around her waist with fumbling hands.

Nick was growing impatient waiting for the woman to finish her scavenging and leave. The last few dead ghouls on the lawn were much closer to the house, and he was stuck in his position against the window; the glass under foot would make too much noise if he moved now, so instead he continued to watch, theorising her next moves. One of the last ghouls, half-slumped, half-splattered against the driveway statue, sat with a pristine looking box of Fancy Lad Snack Cakes clutched tightly to his chest. After that ghoul, there was just the two by the front door; if it wasn’t too close for the scavenger, she might try and pick the cans of purified water off them too and then, presumably, she’d be off and Nick could _move_ again. Nick smirked a little to himself, pleased with his presumption. Decades of living in the Wasteland had taught him a thing or two about how poor, hungry people like her worked. The more he thought about the old woman having to come out here alone and pick through corpses at the crack of dawn, the more he began to pity her and hope she _didn’t_ enter the house; he didn’t want anything to start between them that ended up with her with a bullet through the chest.

But then, despite all the calculations and simulations in his head having reached their logical conclusions about the woman, something gave Nick pause and he felt the grip on his pistol loosen momentarily with the shock: the woman hadn’t picked up the snack cakes. Hell, she’d even _pushed them aside!_ _Hungry Wastelanders don’t push aside a good meal_. Nick watched with renewed attention as the woman straightened and turned towards the manor… and if Nick had blood it would have run cold. Below him, clear as day now it had turned around, was another gen 2 synth. A very _independent_ synth, no less, with a face unlike- well- unlike his.

“What in God’s name-” Nick muttered under his breath, pistol cocked and half-lifted towards the window, and he moved closer to peer down, his face almost outside the empty windowpane when _**CRUNCH**_. The glass under Nick’s shoes ground hard into the wooden floor and he came to a dead halt.

The unknown synth looked up.

Yellow eyes darted across the face of the manor as it tried to figure out where the noise had come from and Nick daren’t move though it was sure to see him. Its familiar yellow eyes then caught the barrel of his pistol aimed square at its chest, and without any hesitation at all-

it turned and ran.


End file.
